


i came here to make one thing fucking clear (i am a literal legend)

by oncewewerezombies, Snailman



Series: to accidentally fill a void of yearning [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternia-Focused, Awkward Romance, Big Sub Small Dom, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Dominance, Exhibitionism, F/M, First Time, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Hand Jobs, Hemospectrum, Hemospectrum Kink, Humiliation, Idiots in Love, Illustrations, M/M, Meddling, Nook Eating (Homestuck), Oral Sex, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Past Relationship(s), Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Submission, Troll Romance (Homestuck), no bucket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24587206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncewewerezombies/pseuds/oncewewerezombies, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snailman/pseuds/Snailman
Summary: There's a lot of things Karkat can resist, but a dare isn't one of them.Another thing apparently is the chance to get Equius on his knees.
Relationships: Karkat Vantas/Equius Zahhak, Nepeta Leijon & Equius Zahhak
Series: to accidentally fill a void of yearning [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777330
Comments: 28
Kudos: 112





	1. Chapter 1

arsenicCatnip [AC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

AC: :33 < the furocious huntress stalks her prey through the tall grass!  
AC: :33 < the huntress knows that this is the usual haunt of her purrrposed dinner and she also knows that her prey is a wily beast  
AC: :33 < she has no intentions of being thwarted!!! tonight, the terribly clefur huntress will have the answer she s33ks!  
AC: :33 < :33c  
CG: ARE YOU FUCKING DONE?  
AC: :33 < that depends!  
AC: :33 < are you going to be a truthful karkitty or a pain in my ass!!! that's what it depends on!  
CG: YOU FEELINGSJAM WITH YOUR MOIRAIL WITH THAT MOUTH?  
CG: WOULDN'T THAT PRUDISH ASS-STICK STUFFED SNOB OBJECT TO YOU USING SUCH CRUDE LANGUAGE? OR TALKING TO ME AT ALL, IF WE'RE GOING TO BE ABSOLUTELY HONEST ABOUT IT.  
AC: :33 < it's funny that you should meowntion my meowrail!  
CG: NO. NO, ABSOLUTELY THE FUCK NOT.  
AC: :33 < :33  
CG: DON'T YOU FUCKING THREE SMILEY FACEGASH AT ME, LEIJON, I WILL TEAR YOUR FLAVOURSLAB FROM YOUR FUCKING MOUTH SO I CAN BRINE IT AND SERVE IT TO YOUR ASSHOLE OF A MOIRAIL AS AN AMUSE BOUCHE BEFORE I COMMIT AN AMUSINGLY INEPT SUICIDE ON HIS LAWNRING AS A FINAL TRIBUTE TO THE STUPIDITY I HAD BEEN FORCED TO ENDURE PRIOR TO THAT POINT OF FINAL DEFEAT.  
AC: :33 < i find it interesting that you're thinking about him, that's all!!!  
AC: :33 < i certainly didn't bring him up furst :oo  
AC: :33 < a suave huntress enquires if the cranky crab has had a certain noble stallion on his mind, just fur some silly reason!  
CG: JUST BECAUSE YOU GOT OVER YOUR CRUSH ON ME DOESN'T MEAN YOU GET TO FUCKING WORK MY QUADRANTS OR TRY AND FIX YOUR MOIRAIL'S BY INVOLVING ME.  
AC: :33 < i didn't mention quadrants eifur, mewster grumpy pants!  
CG: EAT MY ENTIRE BULGE, LEIJON.  
AC: :33 < pffff!  
AC: :33 < and now you're talking about your bulge! just what kind of troll do mew think i am, mispurr?  
CG: ONE THAT'S DETERMINED TO BE A POTENT PAIN IN MY ASS, THAT'S WHAT.  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU REALLY WANT, NEPETA?  
AC: :33 < well, i don't know if i want to tell you now!  
AC: :33 < crabby cranky crabs get nothing from an apex purredator like myself  
AC: :33 < so there, mispurrr crabby pants!  
CG: YOU'RE A SUPPURATING BOIL ON MY LAST FUCKING NERVE, YOU KNOW THAT, LEIJON.  
AC: :33 < h33h33!  
AC: :33 < if you wanted to be left alone, you shouldn't be so much fun to tease, karkitty  
CG: MURDER. ABSOLUTE, COMPLETE, MURDER. ONE OF THESE NIGHTS, I'M GOING TO BE PUSHED TOO FAR AND YOU'RE GOING TO REGRET IT.  
AC: :33 < aaanyway, i thought you should know that equius has b33n thinking about you too!  
AC: :33 < just in case that prompts anything :33  
CG: WHY WOULD I CARE THAT YOUR SWEATY HEMOCASTIC FREAK OF A MOIRAIL IS THINKING ABOUT ME?  
CG: BECAUSE THE ANSWER IS, I DON'T GIVE ONE SINGLE FLYING FUCK WHAT THAT INFECTED ASSHOLE THINKS ABOUT ME.  
AC: :33 < efurryone's so mean about equius, pawnestly!  
AC: :33 < he thinks youre pretty great. :33  
CG: THAT WASN'T EVEN A VERY GOOD LIE, LEIJON, YOU'RE SLIPPING.  
AC: :33 < why would i even bofur to lie about something like that, squeakbeastpan!  
AC: :33 < besides you two k33p talking to each ofur, i wanted to s33 what your intentions were towards my meowrail. i don't think that's weird!!! g33z!  
CG: NOTHING. MY INTENTIONS TOWARDS YOUR MOIRAIL AMOUNT IN MY DAILY THOUGHTS TO ABOUT THE SAME AS THE STAINS OF SHIT I LEAVE ON THE LOADGAPER TICKETS WHEN I WIPE AFTER I TAKE A DUMP.  
AC: :33 < gross :pp  
CG: YOU ASKED.  
AC: :33 < due to her numerous liaisons with a certain purrsecuting attorney, the sl33k huntress would like to declare that the recalcitrant crab in front of her smells like lies  
AC: :33 < lies and deceit :33  
CG: YOU SHOULD GO FUCK YOUR INCOMPETENTLY GARGLING NOISETUBE WITH A SPINED POISONPLANT FOR EVEN WRITING THAT SENTENCE.  
CG: THOSE SENTENCES.  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN ZAHHAK THINKS ABOUT ME, ANYWAY.  
AC: :33 < hmm!  
AC: :33 < after the crab has b33n so rude, the purrbeast licks her front paw and considers whether she should reply or not!  
AC: :33 < he was so *furry* rude :((  
CG: YOU'RE DYING TO TELL ME, OTHERWISE WHY BRING IT UP. SO SPILL THE FUCKING FARTNIBBLETS ALREADY, YOU QUADRANT MEDDLING CAVEDWELLER.  
AC: :33 < that's what i love about you, karkat!!  
AC: :33 < you really know how to make a girl f33l like spilling all her f33lings to you. :33c  
CG: BITCH.  
AC: :33 < that's miss bitch to you! hmmm, well, i supaws i will tell you beclaws otherwise what was the point of talking to you at all  
AC: :33 < equius thinks you're hot!  
AC: :33 < sexy!  
AC: :33 < tick y or n on whether you would fill a pail with my meowrail  
AC: :33 < reminder that ticking n is a dangerous choice! beclaws i would be furry sad :'cc  
CG: YOU'RE LYING.  
AC: :33 < would i do something that fucking stupid when it involves my moirail?  
AC: :33 < quadrants are serious business, you know that! drone season will happen any cycle next sw33p! :((  
CG: THEN DOING THIS IS EVEN MORE FUCKING STUPID. YOU KNOW WHAT MY BLOOD COLOUR IS.  
AC: :33 < the huntress does the biggest eye roll efur! the crab is silly to think that it will matter, when furfuri is making all sorts of plans  
AC: :33 < so many plans :33  
CG: SHUT UP. YOU'RE BOTH SUCH FUCKING MORONS, I CAN'T ACTUALLY BELIEVE THAT YOU'RE BOTH THAT RETARDED TO THINK SHE EVEN HAS A CHANCE.  
CG: EVEN IF EQUIUS DOES THINK I'M...ALL OF THAT PILE OF SHIT YOU SAID, WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THE DRONES SEE THE COLOUR IN THE BUCKET?  
AC: :33 < you worry too much!  
AC: :33 < besides, drone season is fair enough away that we'll figure something out befur then!  
CG: IS IT CLOSE OR FAR AWAY, LEIJON, FIGURE YOUR SHIT OUT.  
AC: :33 < you're so pessimistic! besides, do you really think equius couldn't outfight a drone?  
CG: ...FUCK OFF.  
CG: THEY'RE UNSTOPPABLE KILLING MACHINES, OF COURSE HE COULDN'T BEAT ONE.  
AC: :33 < h33h33!  
AC: :33 < you nefur really want to believe things could turn out ok, karkitty. it's ok to have some fun once in a while!  
CG: I SHOULD TELL YOUR MOIRAIL YOU'RE CHEATING ON HIM AND OFFERING OTHER TROLLS LIFE ADVICE - OR WAYS TO GET KILLED SWIFTLY AND MESSILY ADVICE, ANYWAY.  
AC: :33 < pffff. like that even counts!  
AC: :33 < i can't *believe* i thought i was *flushed* fur you!  
AC: :33 < g33z, past me was a real dumbass!  
CG: YOU'RE STILL A REAL DUMBASS.  
AC: :33 < it's ok though, beclaws my meowrail is exactly that sort of dumbass! g33z, all his concupiscent quadrants have always b33n aimed at real weirdos!  
AC: :33 < it's some real hard work!!  
CG: NICE FRAMING BY USING CONCUPISCENT AS YOUR BOUNDARY AS TO WHAT QUADRANTS ARE FULL OF REAL WEIRDOS, CONSIDERING THE FACT THAT YOU'RE A WANNABE FERAL WIGGLER WHO LIVES IN A FUCKING CAVE.  
AC: :33 < :33  
AC: :33 < my cave is furry nice to live in, thank mew! also it's pretty much off the grid, so it's safur than your subgrubian cull-target piece of trash.  
CG: I'D BE OFFENDED IF IT WASN'T TRUE.  
AC: :33 < one night you should move out here somewhere! i don't have many neighbours  
CG: MOVE OUT TO WHERE THEY'RE TOO BACKWARD TO HAVE A FUCKING FOOD DISC DELIVERY DRONE?  
CG: NO FUCKING THANKS.  
AC: :33 < your loss, vantass!  
AC: :33 < anyway, i've told you what i wanted to tell you so if you act on it or not is up to you!  
AC: :33 < don't be such a fucking loser that you don't, ok?  
CG: WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE TALKING TO?  
CG: I'LL TALK TO HIM ABOUT IT IF I WANT TO. AND I WON'T IF I DON'T.  
CG: THIS IS PROBABLY SOMETHING YOU'VE EXAGGERATED IN YOUR PIN-SIZED MOTE OF A BRAIN, WHEN REALLY ZAHHAK CAN BARELY STAND MY PRESENCE.  
AC: :33 < well, if you nefur ask, you'll nefur know, will you! don't be such a coward!!!  
AC: :33 < ugh, boys are so fucking dumb i swear!  
AC: :33 < i've done my job!  
CG: WHAT FUCKING JOB? YOU TROLLED ME, DUMPED THE KNOWLEDGE THAT APPARENTLY YOUR SWEATY ASSFUCK OF A MOIRAIL GETS HIS ROCKS OFF TO IMAGINING ME NAKED AND NOW YOU'RE GOING TO FUCK OFF AGAIN.  
AC: :33 < he thinks you're furry commanding! and a good leader.  
AC: :33 < he's grown a lot, no one efur gives him any credit! or me, fur that matter since its thanks to my effurts  
CG: NOW I KNOW YOU'RE HOOFBEASTSHITTING ME.  
AC: :33 < think what you want!  
AC: :33 < i'm gonna go do some drawing!

arsenicCatnip [AC] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CG: SHE HAS TO BE LYING.  
CG:  
CG:  
CG:  
CG: BUT WHAT IF SHE'S NOT?  
CG: FUCK.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] has logged off!


	2. Chapter 2

Nepeta is lying to you. You know she is, she has to be - what could possibly be truthful about the idea that Equius - fucking - 'The Empire has its grasper frond up my wastechute and helps me talk' Zahhak would think anything possibly even the fucking slightest bit admiring about you. Karkat god damn Vantas. A wretched pulsing pustule of a mistake probably shit out from Mother Grub's ass sphincter as opposed to popped out through the birthing channel like any normal troll. Your blood is red, your horns are a mockery of the word and you're, well, fuck - you're you. What the possible fuck could someone like that, see in you that was worth hating or pitying? Shit. You don't even know what quadrant he could possibly be angling for. If he is angling for a quadrant, Nepeta could still just be fucking with you. But you don't think she'd fuck with Zahhak like that, so it's a real fucking panscratcher as to what the fuck she's up to. Maybe her end goal really is seeing Equius fill a quadrant in. You'd thought he'd had _something_ happening, with Aradia - maybe you'd been wrong.

You live close enough to Equius' hulking canyon-side hive that you manage to get almost all the way there before the propelling anger at Nepeta's insinuations starts to drift away. The annoyance that you've actually left your comfortable hive and potentially exposed yourself to Serket's fucking machinations gives you enough energy to stomp the rest of the way up his fucking ostentatiously and extravagantly large hive of pure bullshit and then pound on his entry-portal slab, grasper balled into a fist. He'll answer you, god damn it, you don't care where the fuck he is in his ridiculously oversized monument to his own ego. Letting wigglers build hives off their own recognisance was a fucking big mistake on the part of the Empire - huge, phenomenal.

Like what you're doing here, your second thoughts tell you, this is going to see you dead. You ignore the trickle of unease that wants to run its way down your vertical cartilaginous skeletal support bones, and thump your clenched fist against the gleaming, polished wood of Zahhak's idiotic hivedoor like you could wake the dead with it. The dead are among the least of your problems; you're clicks from any sunny desert clime and their roaming hoards of shambling spore-infested corpsizens. Your problem is the living. It's amazing how much you let people get to you. You'd say you should get a moirail but you don't know one single solitary fucker who'd put up with your festering piles of mammoth bullshit on a more than passing basis. Certainly nothing that would lead to a stable moirallegiance.

You decide not to think about that right now.

  


"Zahhak, you taintchafing sore on the bounds of my patience, come out already!" you snarl, and he probably can't hear your voice over the sound of your fist thumping on his portalslab, but it feels like he did hear you because right then he opens the door. He looks sweaty and irritable - and _taller_ than you, again, that inconsiderate pissbucket of hemocastist blathering. A damp towel is bunched over his shoulder, hair pulled back messily into his usual ponytail and he looks very far down his long nose at you, lip curled just enough to show broken teeth. That god damn fucker. "Finally! What the fuck took you so long?"

When in doubt, attack. It's a tactic that's served you well all your miserable life, and you see no reason for that to change.

Zahhak looks affronted, and bewildered. It's a better look on him than you would have thought; you can almost see Confused Older Tealblood Woman Doing Mental Maths To Discover The Capacity Of A Cone meme behind his head. You've never thought he looked attractive before. God damn fucking Nepeta, putting fucking ideas in your fucking thinkpan. She's wrong. She has to be. Someone with as much going for them as Equius Zahhak isn't going to want to quadrant with you, a fucking mutant stain of crimson on the tapestry of the Alternian Empire. You're a blot that it would be best to wipe out swiftly, and maybe tonight you're going to make the mistake that will make someone finally fucking do it. You honestly don't know if you want him to or not, and that's maybe at least half the reason you're doing this. Maybe this will bring everything to a _fucking_ end. Your entire miserable _joke_ of an existence.

"I was in the middle of one of my regular exercise routines," he says with that immense sense of put upon dignity that he suffers under on a nightly basis, along with whatever glandular condition it is that makes him sweat so much. For once, you're not thinking it's so gross. For all his bluster, somehow you're suddenly thinking about how easy it would be to order him to do something for you.

It's not like you haven't thought about it; the threshcutioners are one of the most egalitarian corps in the Empire, and if you actually had had a chance of becoming one, you might have thought to command even someone of his blood colour one day. As it is, you're you, the Empire is what it fucking is and what you really have to look forward to is a potentially long and protracted death (if you're lucky, it will be a quick cull). With the ease of long practice, you wrench your thoughts from that pessimistic and long worn mental path and look up at Equius, considering every inch of him in ways you haven't before. He looks...good.

"What - I must ask, Vantas, what the heck you are doing pounding on my door? I would say at this time of night, but what are you doing here _at all_?" Ah yeah, a good question, probably. You shrug, elaborately insolent and he stiffens further like you just spat on his walking-frond covers. "Well? I just canter imagine that it's for a good reason."

"You just _canter_ imagine, huh?" you say, and grin. It's a jagged feeling on your face and boy, he's sure fucking sweating now. He really does get off hard on people lower than him in the hemospectrum acting like they've got the right to tell him what to do, huh? Well, you've told him what to do before, and you don't see a reason to stop now. It's just before it was kinda fucking tedious and a little distasteful, how much he got off on it, but now with your new information received...you're kinda curious to see just how far down the hopcritter tunnel he'll go. "Now what the fuck could get me off my fat ass to come all the way out here. I fucking wonder, Zahhak! Do you want to try and kick your stifled sense of imagination into gear and just think of why I might be moved to translocate myself, to come here and land on your fucking lawnring."

"That is - I -"

He's stuttering because he doesn't know how to act, and you know it. When things go offscript, he usually gets either wildly indignant and issues toothless orders to try and force people back into their Empire-assigned boxes or he gets a huge, throbbing wiggly. Since he's not telling you to be quiet and behave like a member of society should, you're thinking it's the latter. Which lends some credence to the idea Nepeta's planted in your malignantly infected thinkpan, that maybe. Possibly. There's a slim chance that he could be interested in making an even uglier attempt at romance than he managed with Gamzee (what a festering clusterfuck that had been) with you.

"C'mon, spit it out, you sweaty taintchafing hemofuck," you say, dropping your voice a bit. Both in pitch and volume; it makes him lean in for a moment before he catches himself. You run your tongue along the line of your fangs, watching him sweat and fidget, coiling hair nervously around one finger. What a fucking tool - but you have to admit, a tool you're considering fucking. "I'm _waiting_ , Zahhak. You're going to tell me you really don't have a fucking idea why I could possibly be here in the festering, noisome physical flesh? Why I'd put myself to that fucking trouble? None at all?"

He shakes his head in negation as he doesn't seem able to speak right now, and you look him over again. From horntip to walking-frond cover, obviously dragging your eyes over his tall and bulky highblood frame. What an asshole. Guess this is what growing up having enough food to eat and without the looming ever present threat of death from culling or drone looks like? Equius is not in the position you were in, where you had to spend hours huddling under the floorboards of your hive, pretending that you didn't exist in a tangle of heat-blocker blankets until the imperial drones flew off to another subgrub. This fucking wastechute wipe, god, you want to see him beneath you for a moment. Cowering, under your heel. The thing is, you're pretty sure he wants to be there as well, so it doesn't. It doesn't make you a bad _person_ , to want to see him that way.

It doesn't.

"Get down here, asshole," you say in this low, rough voice that seems to be coming naturally to you in this situation. You've always known you were hatched to give other people fucking orders; it's just now it's finally coming to the point where someone is actually doing what the fuck you tell them to do. You can _feel_ it, in the air, when you're talking to Equius. He wants to obey. He _wants_ to submit. You've just got to push him to the point where he feels like it's god damn fucking inevitable. "You should know how to bend by now." You curl your finger at him while you show your teeth aggressively, acting like you can't imagine how him not bending down. You don't even bother looking at the front of his pants; if he doesn't have a wiggly by now, you'd be very fucking surprised. "Get _down_ here, Zahhak."

"I. You. That's so. Hkk." He hesitates a moment more, his hair so tight around his wiggledigit that you wouldn't be surprised if it was cutting off the circulation, before he sighs like he's putting down a weight that's been heavy on his shoulders for a very long fucking time and bends down. _Actually_ doing what you're fucking telling him to do - you wish you could see his eyes. You keep a hold of yourself and reach up to grip his chin, brushing your thumb against the edge of his lower lip. When he doesn't rear back in disgust, you press further because you're an intemperate impatient fuckwad of a troll, always pushing your luck, and push your fingers into his mouth.

"Good," you say without thinking, feeling the cool depths of his mouth and the jagged edges of the broken stumps of his teeth. "That's - that's good." The light's wrong for you to see his expression, to catch some meaning behind the impenetrable walls of his shades. His mouth is soft and wet around your fingers, and you can feel his tongue moving uneasily underneath the pads of your digits as though he doesn't quite know what to do with it. That's cool by you; you don't really fucking know what you're doing yourself. When you risk a glance downwards though, it's more than obvious that he has a raging case of boneritis going on though, shorts distended over what _has_ to be the lump of his unsheathed bulge in his pants. That's. Hmm. Well, it's sure fucking something, as the Jade acolyte said to the subjugglator. "You act like a panting bitch for any shitblood who bothers to pay you a visit, Zahhak? You fucking pervert."

He makes a shocked noise, but it's not what you would call a negating noise to protest the point you just fucking made and you click your tongue disapprovingly. It really had been something a lot like what you would fucking classify as a _moan_. Maybe something like a whimper. You hadn't realised how fucking easy it would be to wrap Equius around your fingers. That's maybe half a lie; he'd made it obvious, but you hadn't ever thought you would want to. Yet here you are. Looking up at him, with him sort of hunching over while you push your fingers deeper into his fang-enclosure, pressing them over the cool slickness of his tongue.

It's unfairly erotic and you kind of hate him for it, but at the same time you feel an unreasoning wave of pity. What a fucked up mess he is; he should have the world at his feet, more or less. But here he is instead, almost begging for your attention and sucking on your fingers. Glancing down, you can see that he's starting to stain his pants blue at the crotch, his cheeks and almost all the whole of his neck and throat is flushed and he is _sweating_ heavily all the way through his clothes, disgusting stains under his armpits becoming visibly present. His whole dishevelled state feels like victory.

"Look at you," you say, voice gravelling through your chirpbox in a way that sounds much lazier then how you feel. Pulling your fingers from his mouth, he's still hunched over as you bring your hand down to brush against the damp front of his shorts, keeping your eyes locked on his shades. The whole moment feels fucking electric, and you are _flying_. You can't remember feeling this good before in your entire fucking life, like telling Equius what to do has suddenly given your whole life meaning. "You're a fucking disgrace, Zahhak. I bet you're about to spill right here on your fucking doorstep, aren't you." You can almost feel his bulge leap into your hand at your words; or at least try to, the heavy canvas material is holding it back at least a little. He opens his mouth, as if he's about to say something and you hiss softly. "Shut up. Put your hands behind your back."

Surprisingly, he shuts his mouth. You lick your teeth again, like the feel of your own fangs against your flavourslab is going to give you some kind of epiphany and then you reach out with your other hand and take his shades off. As soon as you can see his sightnuggets, you feel better. Because in his eyes? It's obvious how much he wants this. He can't hide anymore. You hook an arm of his eyewear into the neck of your sweater, and he looks relieved for a moment and you have to admit, you almost feel hurt for a moment. What, did he think you were that much of an inconsiderate douchewaffle that you'd do something like throw them away? It's obvious they mean _something_ to him. You're not like that.

No matter how you look at it, you're not Vriska and that's actually an important thing.

"God, you're just falling over for me, aren't you," you murmur, hand still cupping the front of his shorts before you squeeze a little. Equius makes a broken sound, a hoarse gasp, and keeping upright is obviously an effort but he straightens his knees and does it. _For you_. Your whole pusher does this weird little flutter in your chest, and you squeeze again as he breathes raggedly and open-mouthed, almost drooling down his chin as blue starts to stain the fabric under your fingers. Zahhak's issue to solve later; he should have thought about wearing darker coloured pants that wouldn't show the colour so badly. He probably hadn't expected to get jerked off through his shorts tonight. You hadn't expected things to move this quickly. Everyone's getting fucking surprises left, right and centre here tonight, especially Serket and her fucking murder-lusus if they decide to look in on what the neighbours are doing tonight.

"Are you ready to spill yet, Zahhak? Without a fucking _bucket?_ You're a god damn disgrace, fucking gorgeous like this," you say, not even really listening to the thoughts pouring out your facegash now. Just letting them come as you fondle him through his shorts, feeling him shudder at every touch. Gasping while you touch him, looking so fucking _wrecked_. Your hand is damp, fingers stained blue if you even chanced to look - but you don't need to. You can feel it. "Fucking - you're such a fucking wreck, Equius, you're going to get off like this, just like this, right now, come on, I wanna see you _cum_ , I wanna see you _spill_ , Equius, do it, come on, sugargrub, come on - spill for me -"

Because that's the truth of it, right. You want to see him cum, and you want to see him do it for you. Make an absolute fucking wreck of himself. Just for you. The selfishness of it throbs in your pusher and you bare your fangs and press harder on his bulge, and he -

Equius -

He cums in a wash of chilled blue all over your hand and all down the front of his shorts, and probably the back as well. Almost sobbing in broken little pants, curling in over you like he wants to touch you and doesn't know what to lean on. You lean in, unable to help yourself when he looks so fucking vulnerable and almost broken. It's. You.

You kiss him, because what the fuck else could you do?

You strain up, he leans down, it's a much better kiss than the one you'd shared briefly with Terezi before she declared you 'a hostile witness!', licked your cheek and disappeared cackling into the sunrise. When you reconsidered the whole fucking Pyrope issue, you decided that being flush for her was an idiotic idea. Not just idiotic, beyond it on a ecliptic scale, an idea that would send you beyond any hope of cognitive redemption. Kissing Equius now, it's hard to say what you ever saw in her - maybe she just really wasn't the type for you. Maybe this is your type. Sweaty, gargantuan stick of propriety thrust up his ass and held there by the power of his clenching buttocks (oh god don't think about his _sculpted majestic ass_ , you fool, you're in enough trouble as it is), and a mane of hair that would make Troll Fabio jealous.

Horrifying thought, but your bulge is tying itself into knots in your boxers and you pull yourself away so you can breathe, feeling Equius sway after you. Getting a look at him, all you can say is - he's a fucking _wreck_ , and you're proud of the fact that you've brought him to this miserable, humiliating point. You are so, _so_ disgusting but at the same time you can't stop. You want to go further, and you know with an aching that goes through you all the way to your bones, that he wants you to as well.

"You liked that?" you ask him in a rough whisper, just a twitch of the sliding scale away from being a growl. He looks so fucking good like this, his hair coming loose and sticking to his face, so god damn _sweaty_ , you've never seen him perspire quite like this before, and the growing, spreading badge of shame at his crotch. Blue staining across light grey. Equius gulps in a shuddering breath, then nods (much to your relief, even if you'll never say so out loud in this moment), and something across your shoulders relaxes as he slumps in his stance, a little splay-legged now. Probably trying to keep his wet and soggy shorts from chafing his thighs. Something he should have thought about before he spilled in them, and you can't keep back a jagged little grin. More of a smirk, if you were going to be honest with yourself.

"Hey. Hey, look at me," you direct him, sliding your hand along his jaw to direct his gaze where it belongs. On your face, waiting for the next fucking order you're going to give him. He's flushed and looks like he's about to fall over, collapse, something - you've never seen him look so vulnerable before and your whole cardiopusher tightens in your chest. You're still on his fucking entryportal ledge, he's stained his shorts from crotch to knee and you're just about fully out of your sheath. Your nook's dripping too.

Fuck it.

You've already killed the baabeast, there's no point in waffling about finishing up with the baagrub.

"You know I've thought of something else you can do with that big fat fucking mouth besides spew disgraceful fuckin' hemocastist bullshit," you hum, and you can see him suck in a breath to argue. What is there to fucking argue about? You don't want to let him get that sort of grip on his dignity, so you slap his cheek lightly, before shoving your fingers back between his teeth and over his tongue. He garbles something, but he doesn't bite you so you're calling it a win while you've still got all your fingers. "Shut up," you say in a way that you would term as affectionate, your fingers damp inside the cavern of his mouth, "and get on your fucking knees, moron."

He's smart, rich and muscular as all fuck but he's still a god damn moron. You'll stand by that. He and Nepeta share two braincells between them, and most of the time, they're both in her custody. It doesn't matter anyway, because when you pull your fingers out of his mouth, he drops to his knees like you slammed a subjugglator's club into the back of his skull. Now all his height means is that he's almost at the perfect height to suck your bulge and he _has_ to know this is where this is heading, because as you unzip your jeans with a sigh, you don't even have to tell him to open his mouth. He just does it. You really should be afraid about sliding your sensitive bulge into such a beartrap of a mouth, but all that happens is that your nook fucking _throbs_.

This is god damn decadent, and you love it. Like you both have the time and slurry to waste by indulging in oral sex, like nothing even matters besides the fact that you enjoy it. You never thought you'd see Equius god damn Zahhak indulging in something so fucking treasonous. And on his knees no less, with his fucking maw open like he can't wait to receive your mutant red bulge. Well. He's always been a kinky-ass fuck, you guess. You don't even feel bad about taking advantage of it.

Not really, anyway.

"Fuck," you mutter, and smooth your thumb across his upper lip, down to the corner, hooking it in like it's going to make him open his mouth wider. Make those jagged, broken stumps of fangs less of a fucking god damn bulgehazard, but it's not going to stop you from feeding him your bulge. All those several squirming, crimson red, traitor mutant inches of it. Sighing in deeply, you shift enough to let your jeans drop down further while you push your boxers out of the way, bulge immediately slapping against his cheek. And then trying to curl around his jaw, his ear, and up to his hairline, smearing him with slick mutant geneslurry all along the entire side of his aristocratic face.

You're pretty turned on, what the fuck can you say. He got to cum already, and you're one behind, like what the fuck was this god damn state of affairs. Seems unfuckingbalanced to you, anyway. He looks good like this, mouth open and on his knees, eyes naked and desperate. You want to smooth away the deep bags under his eyes and make him look not so god damn fucking _tired_. Who are you to talk though? Your's would be at least as evident if your concealer regime wasn't as fucking tight as Her Condescension's locked panties.

"Tell me you want it," you demand breathlessly, because you need to _hear_ it. You want to hear him admit it, and you need the reassurance that he does actually want to go down the road you've bulldozered him into taking. Like fucking asshole. What if he doesn't really want this? What if he's regretting it already, it's not like he's said yes or anything, fuck, oh god, _you're a fucking rapist_ , fuck, FUCK, _fuck_ \- oh shit, you've fucked this up -

He _moans_ like a particularly decadent wet dream and swallows hastily, your bulge still smearing crimson colour up against his cheek as he looks up at you like you're the only thing in the world. It's not. He shouldn't be looking at you like that, you're very fucking certain of it. Your whole hungersack clenches sickeningly, and he nuzzles up against your bulge and your nook, cool breath washing over sensitive skin and now you're the one to shiver.

"I want it, I want to suck your bulge, _please_ , sir," he rumbles in that snotty highblood accent that it's obvious that he's learned all too carefully, and you suck in a deep breath. You'd fall over from lack of oxygen if you didn't, your breathing isn't what you'd call exactly fucking steady right now. Your knees are shaking, you can feel it but from the way he's looking up at you, you don't think he's noticed. You've never been looked at by someone with such a raw sense of need before, and it hits you over the head like a rectangular block of housing substrate housed in a sock, enough that you feel like you can't speak for a moment.

"Then what are you doing _not sucking it_ , Zahhak," you snap as the surge of emotional relief overwhelms you, because it sure isn't a feeling that lasts for long amongst the overwhelming horny relief (they're different types of relief, definitely) and aching neediness of your clamouring genitalia. He wants this. You're about ninety-five per cent sure he really wants this and isn't just going along with it because someone is indulging his fetish for being ordered to do shit for once. If his moirail says he wants _you_ , specifically...then it's not just fun and games time, is it? This could be something very fucking serious. You lick your chapped lips and watch as he opens his mouth, and you use your thumb and index finger to shield your sensitive bulge from one half of his broken-ass chompers at least, the cracked edges of his broken fangs digging into your skin but not your bulge as the stupid appendage seems to act like it's being sucked straight down his maw.

And oh god, oh fuck - it's some fucking ridiculous version of Clownhalla in his mouth. Even with his fucked up dentition. Cool and wet, throat swallowing around the tip of your bulge as his tongue presses up against the underside, his eyes are watering but he's not - he's not backing away from anything. He wants this as much as you do, but you don't think it's as sudden for him as it is for you. This isn't what you imagined happening when you hopped on the public scutterbuggy to come and scream his brains loose from his thinkpan.

But.

You don't regret it either, and not just because you're currently getting your bulge wet.  
"That's it, that's good," you soothe as Equius sucks on your bulge, biting back a moan as his tongue presses against a sensitive spot. Fuck. Nothing passive about the way he's taking it, that's for fucking sure. Using your thumb to block his upper fangs was a good idea too, you note to yourself as you look down to see the chipped edges digging deep enough into your skin to cut. Just a little graze, nothing serious but you'd rather it was on your fucking grasperstubs than your bulge. It's the only one you have (you don't actually know whether to believe Sollux or not when he tells you he has two, but you routinely tell him to stop boasting about shit he doesn't have when he insists he does have a double bulge) (he probably does, the smug festering nookpustule). "Fuck, that's so _good_..."

Your voice dies away as he mouths your bulge like it's something delicious, eyes looking up at you almost worshipfully. You don't know what else to call the look in his sightnuggets, something that makes you feel weak and small before his gaze. If there's anyone on this fucking planet who doesn't deserve this shit, you're pretty sure it isn't you. Fuck, you can't believe you trust him enough to put your bulge in his _mouth_. Whether the fact that he let you do it or the fact that you did it is more fucking incomprehensible, you'll leave that up to the audience. What's more than just a small surprise is that Equius Zahhak sucks bulge so fucking well, you're pretty sure he's done it before.

You'd ask Aradia about it if you thought she'd give you anything but a cryptic answer. Gamzee would definitely have told you already if anything had gone anywhere, but you know it hadn't. Equius' devotion to his blood colour weirds him out way the fuck too much for him to think of getting in a quadrant with the blueblood, and you're pretty sure even Equius had come to accept that. Eventually. God, he's such an asshole. He's so fucking hungry for _anything_ , it's no wonder he drives people away. It makes a sudden throb of pity and arousal hit you hard in the pusher, and you suck in a deep breath, feeling your bulge squirm restlessly in his mouth against his tongue.

Taking a hard grip on his hair with your other hand, the one that's not currently shielding your bulge from damage, you pull him forward. Deeper and further onto his bulge until he gags, your breath coming shallow and fast as you do what you do with every fucking relationship you've ever had. Ever will have. You test it to god damn destruction. Fuck, it feels so good to pull at his hair but he's not trying to pull away from you. A moan shudders around your bulge and your whole nook clenches as you hiss through your fangs with a very primitive sort of satisfaction. It feels so _good_ to have him on his knees like this, cool mouth and tongue worshipping your red-hot bulge.

"What's up with this, Zahhak, you just unroll your fucking tongue like a welcome mat when any shitblood rocks up on your lawnring?" you sneer, because you want to see, you want to now what'll make him pull away. If anything, you're pretty sure he's getting another wiggly as he gags around your bulge and chirps like he's been hit with a dose of drone pheromones. Fuck. This shouldn't be so hot. He shouldn't be so fucking hot. It's completely fucking unfair for him to be suddenly so attractive when you've never even thought about it before. What a god damn asshole. "Hard to think of any other reason you'd be this - _nngh, fuck_ \- good."

You'd swear his eyelashes fucking flutter, like he's being paid a compliment. You're only telling it like it is, you don't know what he's acting so happy about. He is actually very fucking good at this, for he knows only what reason. Actual practice or reading Troll Cosmo - you're the one who's reaping the benefit of it now and fuck, you can't stop yourself from fucking his face and making him take as much of your bulge as he can swallow. Feeling like you're about to spill, you pull back with a groan and forcefully pull your reluctant bulge out of his open mouth. Fuck.

"What -" he manages to say, looking dazed, like he's been pulled from a dream. Vaguely purple coloured drool runs from the corners of his mouth, down over his chin and onto his chest, soaking his shirt even more than the sweat had managed to. A premonitory glance of what it's going to look like if the two of you ever actually get to a bucket (as though you could turn it in). If you followed that thought through, you'd be so fucking _angry_ at this whole shitastic spectacle that is troll society but for once you've got something so much better to concentrate on than your looming tantrum. "Did - Was something wrong?"

"No - just, hang on," you mutter as you force your pants down further, before grabbing him by the horn and pulling him down into your nook. Somehow he manages to contort and squish himself up so he can get his mouth on your nook. Look, there's a lot of ways Equius can be a fucking moron, but he can be quick on the uptake. If he wants to be. And he's pretty fucking cluey about what you wanted when you shoved his whole fucking face between your legs. Thank fuck for that. Somehow telling him to lick your nook is more embarrassing than telling him to suck your bulge. No real reason why, you're just relieved you didn't have to actually say it. "Ah - fuck, _Equius_ -"

That feels so fucking good, it should be illegal. His cool, slick tongue swiping along the lips of your nook and dipping inside in teasing motions, while his nose nudges against the base of your bulge. You chitter helplessly, and hang onto his horn with the grip you've still got. As if he was going to pull away for some reason, and as if you could stop him if he did. The fact that he is _choosing_ this, choosing to obey you and devote himself to slavishly lavishing your disgusting genitalia with attention is - it's fucking beyond you but you can't stop now. Not after all of this.

"Fuck," you groan, reduced to just repeating it over and over as his tongue fucks deeper inside your nook than you would have thought possible. "Fuck - fuck, ffffuck, fuck, FUCK - " Seriously though, when did such an inveterate asshole manage to get close enough to someone _multiple_ times to get this good at sucking bulge and eating nook? Maybe you're going to have to buy Aradia a really nice rock or something - box of skulls - if it was even her, it's just that you find it unfathomable that Equius could possibly have anyone he's close to outside of your little self-obsessed cadre of mutual failures. With all of you, there's something that puts you outside the Imperial norm. Sometimes it's a little thing, and sometimes it's a big thing - like your blood colour - oh shit -

Something about the way Equius is moving his tongue, his hands gripping around your thighs (something you did _not_ give him permission to do, you note to yourself), makes you spill with a guttural chirp from somewhere deep in your squawkbox. There's that threatening clench of tension in your genebladder, and then it releases in the form of a gush of red slurry draining all over Equius' face from your nook. Whining and chittering to yourself, you fist your hands in his hair and lean on him heavily to keep your feet.

Fuck.

That'd been.

Fuck.

With a groan, you pull away from him finally and look down. His face looks like a massacre, between your bulge curling around the upper half of his face where it could reach and your nook painting the rest of him. All the way down the rest of him. His shorts had already been a fucking write off, you tell yourself, and it's not like he can't fucking afford it. He can probably just hop on the ormrweb and dial up a fucking new wardrobe any time he feels like. Eridan at least has the decency to dress like the class he actually is, like he can afford to, the finny-eared assmuncher. Equius dresses like a fucking slob, but you have to admit - panting, with slurry half-way down your knees and your own pants having met their personal Troll Waterloo - he does make it look good, most of the time.

"Shower," you grunt, and kick him a little before starting to pull up your jeans so you can walk. You pull them up fast for just a moment, before how fucking soggy they are reaches your thinkpan from your cringing skin and you wince, before pulling them up more slowly. Somehow, you don't think you thought all of this all the way through. Especially the part where you spilled a whole bunch of mutant red slurry all over the fucking portalledge in fucking broad moonslight. What the actual fuck had you been thinking? The answer was, the only thing doing the thinking, had been your nook and not the survival instincts that have kept you alive so far in an empire where your very existence is illegal, and could see not just you, but all your friends, very messily and painfully deceased in no short fucking order. "C'mon, Zahhak. We'll get clean and then..." You clear your throat, suddenly feeling something like a lump in it. "We'll talk."

"I suppose - ablutions _are_ in order, in the circumstances," he rumbles with that well-toned blueblood voice, and you snicker a little as he manages to climb to his feet. Looking as awkward as a baby hoofbeast but somehow...pleased with himself, the smug bastard that he is. He's still shifting as much as you are to keep the clinging material of his shorts somehow away from his thighs but fuck - he looks good like that. He sounds a little hoarse and you can't pretend that you don't love that. Now he's back on his feet, he's back to being taller than you like a consummate bastard and you crane your neck a little bit to look up at him. He immediately hunches down, and you...hmm. You don't now how you feel about the fact that he's almost cringing to keep your eye levels closer together. Does he always slouch like that? It's going to give him some killer spinal support column problems if he's not careful and you wonder what Nepeta is doing to look after shit like that, besides just pulling out feelingsjams and shooshpaps.

Oh shit. You did not just wonder if he was keeping healthy and maintaining his general bone health, you just the fuck did not. Shit. Fuck. You're in this now, you realise and it makes you scowl even harder, giving Equius a little push to get him inside. You make a point of stepping in your slurry so you can walk it through his fucking hive, something he'll have to clean up or explain to his lusus, you don't give a fucking shit. He probably has god damn fucking robots to do it for him anyway. Fucking lone genius inventor that he is (the fucking nerve of this asshole to be so rich and have so much and still be so fucking pitiful, you honestly could just vomit).

"And we're going to _talk_ about...all of this," you insist as you both head inside, while you try not to seem like you're keeping an eye on him and how he's walking. This is fine. You're fine. It's just that you didn't expect any of this to happen. You'd thought you'd come over here, scream at Equius and then get back on your husktop to deliver a blistering capslocked tirade to Nepeta about how she needed to stop shipping real fucking people and go jerk one out over her fanfictions instead or something. That hadn't been what happened, and you are _so fucking mad about it_.

This is a bad idea. It's the worst idea you think you've ever had. Catching Equius looking at you from under his eyelashes with a sickeningly bashful look however, you have to pause to consider that this won't all be bad though. Whatever this is.

Having a meaningful conversation in an ablutiontrap the approximate size of your whole ablutionblock is a first. Trying to make it clear to Equius that he really should consider someone else for his flushed quadrant and anyone braindead enough to enter a concupiscent quadrant with you is signing their own personal death sentence is a fool's errand; but it wasn't like you couldn't _try_. You feel like you were morally obligated to point it out, but he'd just hunkered down and gotten more stubborn until you had run out of breath to shout at him about it. After the shouting and admitting that you did want to try things flushed, you'd fooled around again and he's still just as good at orally satisfying you as he had been before, not needing the extra spice of possibly being seen by Serket to make it more exciting. Fuck you sideways with a culling fork, it should be fucking illegal, the things he can do with his mouth (it is, but you mean like extra illegal to be so good at it).

You crack open his husktop later when he's dozing on his rackety cavalreaper issue slumberbench that he keeps in his workblock, since you'd managed to convince him to take a fucking nap and that you wouldn't do anything untofuckingward, sweet frozen fucking shit on a stick. Who does he think you are? It's not like you're going to start digging around for embarrassing shit. You don't have to, Equius wears it all on his nonexistent sleeve.  
It's. Kinda nice actually.

Banishing the sudden wash of saccharinely sticky mating fondness from your thoughts, you log into Trollian and hit the capslock key. You have a few fucking things to say to a certain meddling, wannabe furry, cavetroll. You seriously can't believe that she was fucking _right_ , and it gives you a seething sense of rage. Or maybe since the rage is located somewhere near your hungersack, in the lower part of your thorax, it might just be indigestion. Who the fuck knows! Anyway, you've got a sackful of bile and a target in mind, so you should feel better soon.


	3. Chapter 3

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

CG: FUCK YOU.   
AC: :33 < h33h33! i was right then, wasn't i. :33   
AC: :33 < the triumphant huntress coyly licks her paw, casting a sideways glance at the cranky crab, who is so furry wrong again! like he is all the time when it comes to romance. :cc   
CG: I SAID, FUCK YOU AND I MEANT IT.   
CG: I SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN MY HIVE, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER FOR EVERYONE IN THE LONG RUN, YOU MARK MY FUCKING WORDS, NEPETA LEIJON.   
CG: I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU THINK THIS IS GOING TO DO. IT'S GOING TO WIND UP WITH EVERYONE VERY FUCKING DEAD.   
CG: YOU SHOULD HAVE FOUND EQUIUS SOMEONE ELSE TO BE HIS MATEPSPRIT.   
AC: :33 < 3333333333!   
AC: :33 < i'm so excited!!!   
CG: YOU'RE A FUCKING MORON.   
AC: :33 < the huntress continues to lick her paw, in a knowing fashion   
AC: :33 < she knows that the crab will come to realise that this is the furry best thing fur efurryone eventually!   
AC: :33 < she can f33l it in her paws   
CG: IN YOUR GRASPERS, YOU MEAN.   
AC: :33 < i said paws and i meant paws, mispurrr crankyface!   
AC: :33 < i can't wait to jam with sweatquius later h33h33!   
CG: IS THIS WHAT MY LIFE IS GOING TO BE LIKE NOW? I GET TO DEAL WITH YOU ON A MUCH MORE PERSONAL BASIS BECAUSE WE'RE AT FUCKING QUADRANT CORNERS?   
AC: :33 < psssh   
AC: :33 < don't act like you don't like it, karkitty :33   
CG: I WILL FIND A WAY TO BREAK EVERY SINGLE FUCKING ONE OF YOUR GRASPERSTUBS IF YOU TYPE OUT THAT NICKNAME YOU'VE MALIGNANTLY FOISTED UPON ME ONE MORE FUCKING TIME, LEIJON.   
CG: MARK MY FUCKING WORDS AS SOME KIND OF GOSPEL, EXCEPT MORE LIKELY TO BECOME REAL THAN CLOWN GOSPEL.   
AC: :33 < h33h33! you're so funny when you're mad!   
AC: :33 < the idea that you think you could even get close to me is also purrty funny, mispurr city slicker.   
AC: :33 < unless i wanted you to get close to me, that is!   
AC: :33 < you'll have to consider how much you like fooddisc delivery and whether you really want to get down and dirty with a sl33k huntress on her own terms :33   
CG: WAIT, WHAT.   
AC: :33 < leaving the crab to ponder all the impurrlications of her latest words, she disappears into the underbrush!   
CG: OH NO YOU DON'T, GET THE FUCK BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN YOURSELF!   
AC: :33 < by33333!!!

arsenicCatnip [AC] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

You realise you have lost control of your life, and you are shockingly more ok with it than you ever would have thought you could be.


	4. BONUS CHAPTER




End file.
